Heat
by MorgauseNokami
Summary: It took a while for him to realize he wasn't having a disturbing but nonetheless pleasant dream. Pan, his best friend's niece, the kid he used to baby-sit, was actually in front of his window, staring at him, and she wasn't wearing much of anything.


Heat

Chapter 1

It was late at night or early in the morning, it was hot, and it was humid. Trunks had been lying on his bed, only covered by a thin sheet, and then he had thrown off that sheet, and it had still been too hot, and he had taken off his T-shirt as well. But even his shorts were too constricting. He contemplated taking them off as well, at this point not particularly caring he would actually be naked in his parents' house, when he noticed a familiar ki by his window.

Pan. What was she doing here? In the middle of the night? He blinked, trying to focus. She was outside his window.

"Pan?" he mumbled, knowing he sounded like quite the simpleton but unable to do anything but mumble. It was too late, and too hot, and he hadn't had enough sleep in days. "What are you doing here?"

She stared at him from the other side of the window. He noticed that she was only wearing a nightgown. A thin, short, white nightgown. Which he could see through.

It took a while for him to realize he wasn't having a disturbing but nonetheless pleasant dream. Pan, his best friend's niece, his baby sister's best friend, the kid he used to baby-sit, was actually in front of his window, staring at him, and she wasn't wearing much of anything.

He blinked. "What are you doing here?" he asked, again, shaking off any attraction that he might have felt towards her slight slender body, her large, liquid eyes. That was for dreams, the kind of dreams he didn't admit to having when he was awake. It was natural, he had told himself, to feel a slight attraction towards a female so obviously growing into adulthood, despite the fact that she was too young for him. Most men knew it, and most didn't admit to it. Almost none of them acted upon it - the ones who did were perverts, to say the least. It was an interesting, difficult phase that the girl was in - a body that had grown quite mature during the last year, quite feminine, and a spirit that was young, almost childish, not fully grown at all. It was charming, and cute, but not truly attractive.

The girl didn't answer. He frowned, yawned, and frowned again. "What is it, Pan?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed a bit and she pushed a finger against the glass. He blinked again, then widened his eyes. "No! Pan!"

Too late. The glass shattered, courtesy of a very small but powerful ki-ball. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying not to think of the hours of work it would take to get the glass out of his carpet.

"Thank you," he said, deadpan. "Was it really necessary to ruin my window?"

She didn't say anything but levitated into his room, flying slowly, carefully, until she was hovering directly above him.

He stared at her and stood up, all but scrambling out of bed. "What's the matter with you?" he asked, trying to sound annoyed, but too weirded out by her behavior to actually manage it.

She floated closer to him, her eyes fixed on his chest. It didn't take long for her to reach him, and she leaned over, touching her hand to his shoulder. She breathed in deeply - he noticed, because her hands had moved to her nightgown and started fiddling with the buttons.

He looked at her, baffled. "Pan? What the hell are you doing?"

Her head shot up, her dark eyes fixed on his. Her long hair fell around her face, tangled but still shining. Her hands stilled on the buttons of her shirt.

"I want you," she said, her voice low and hoarse. "I want you inside me."

He swallowed, trying not to envision that. She was barely sixteen, even younger than his baby sister. Last year she had still been as flat as a board. It was absolutely impossible that he ever returned those feelings.

"Don't be ridiculous, Pan. You're a child," he said, too breathless.

"I'm not," she said, still in that low, husky voice. "That's the whole point. I'm a woman, and I want a man. And if your human brain wouldn't cloud your perception, you'd realize you want the same."

He absolutely did not want to realize that. "Fuck off, Pan, don't harass me," he snapped, stepping back. Was this a dream after all? No, it wasn't, it couldn't be, in dreams he never felt this unsettled, disturbed, in dreams it didn't matter what he did and with whom, because at some level he always knew that it _was_ a dream, a harmless way of dealing with unwanted feelings. He knew instinctively that this was real, all too real, and it was more than disturbing; it was frightening.

She pulled him against her body violently and bit his neck, not at all softly.

He ripped her thin nightgown right off her body.

.

It was ridiculous, really, but he was not aware of anything but the feel of her, until his father stepped into the room. His father, of all people. He didn't know how long it had been, but it couldn't have been long, considering the fact that he was still wearing his boxers and he hadn't planned on wearing them any longer than he had to.

"What - " he managed to utter before his father grabbed Pan by her arms, locked them behind her back and dragged her out of the window.

.

Trunks stared after them, utterly baffled, utterly stupefied, utterly unable to accept what the hell had just happened. It took a while before he realized that his father's ki was so high that he might rouse some of the other Z-fighters, thinking there was a threat of some kind. He swallowed and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head, and dived of the bed and through the window in one fluid motion. He had to help Vegeta. It was a bad idea to have Goten or Krillin, or, Kami forbid, Gohan check out the scene with Pan in her current state of undress.

.

He found them in the gravity room, Vegeta still holding Pan's arms behind her back. He had had to power up to Super Saiyan to be able to hold her. Now she was curving her back, pressing her buttocks against his crotch, rolling her body in a slow and very sensual rhythm. Her eyes were half lidded, her lips full and red, almost bruised. Used, Trunks realized, ashamed. Her lips looked used. He felt even more ashamed that he was still so turned on by her. She was still a little girl, damn it. She was barely full grown, still possessed that slender, long legged teenager's body. But she did not act like a teenager, now. She acted like a very lustful, assertive, _aggressive_ woman. Especially with that pout and that stare.

"Why is she like this?" he asked his father, backing away to a safe distance.

"She went into heat," Vegeta said gruffly, giving a painful pull on the girl's arms. She growled at him. "And she's too young to be able to control herself."

"She's an animal," Trunks said.

"She's a Saiyan."

He looked at the girl, who had ceased her struggling and was pressing up to Vegeta again, her gaze however fixed on him, Trunks. "I never went into heat."

Vegeta looked at him disdainfully. "Don't be stupid. You're _male_. You do know _some_ biology, right?"

Trunks grimaced. "Are you completely immune to her antics?" he asked.

Vegeta merely glared at him.

"You're not, are you."

"I have self control," Vegeta stated, darkly. "However, we do have a problem on our hands."

Trunks snorted. "Tell me about it. We can't let her leave like this."

"She won't. She's instinctively looking for the best male to father her children. That's you or me."

Trunks looked at him, shocked. Yes, they would be, wouldn't it? His father and he were the only Saiyan males left who weren't related to her, they would certainly be the best choice biologically. But while the thought of Pan having a crush on him, Trunks, would still be on the side of cute rather than unsettling, the idea that she would want his _father_ was disturbing to no ends. And yet it certainly didn't look as if the thought upset _her_, what with her wriggling sensually against his father's body. He ground his teeth, unsure if all he was feeling was disgust, or if there was a tiny twinge of jealousy mixed in there. "Can't we just tie her up and wait till it's over?"

Vegeta snorted. "Except that no earthly material is strong enough to hold a Saiyan, and you and I can't keep holding her like this."

Trunks frowned. "Why not?"

"Do you have that much self control?" Vegeta demanded.

Trunks shrugged, blushing, trying very hard not imagine that particular struggle. "Then let her father do this."

Vegeta smirked. "Sure. But do you really want to give Kakarot's brat that big a trauma? Not that I'd care."

Trunks shrugged again, unsure. "He'll have to get used to her growing up sooner or later."

His father snorted. "Trunks – she barely realizes who we are, and the brat's a demi-saiyan too."

Trunks paused and shot her father a bewildered look. "He's her _father_!"

Vegeta smirked again. "Do you think she'll realize?"

Trunks groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead, trying very hard not to stare at the naked body in front of him. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I'll leave you two here and make sure no one goes in," Vegeta said, smirking.

Trunks stared at his father, wide-eyed, shaking his head. "Dad – dad! No."

Vegeta let go of Pan, and she stood still for a moment, then slowly walked over to Trunks, her hips swaying. He swallowed. "Dad! I can't – I can't get her pregnant!"

Vegeta, still smirking, tossed him a little box. "Here. That ought to be enough."

"Dad?"

But Vegeta had walked out of the gravity room already, closing the door behind him. Trunks heard the specific combination of beeping sounds that signaled that the door was locked.

"...crap."

.

#$#$#$#

AN: Well, long time no see! This has been gathering dust in my files for years; I rather thought it was time to see if reviews would be any kind of incentive to continue this particular story. I know the age difference is quite upsetting at this point, but that's exactly what drew my attention. It certainly would make more sense for a female Saiyan to go in heat when they first started menstruating, wouldn't it? And just think of the wonderful psychological troubles it would give Trunks! *evil grin* …oh, shush, just be glad I didn't make her twelve. I figured she'd be a late bloomer, considering she was still flat as a board at fourteen.


End file.
